Read Ebook: A July Holiday in Saxony Bohemia and Silesia by White Walter

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Ebook has 534 lines and 60338 words, and 11 pages

As there was no help for it, we had another talk, he all the while holding my hand as if fearful I should escape. The burden of his discourse was "a good time coming," mingled, however, with a dread that when it came it would not be half so desirable as the good old times, and between the past and future his life was a torment.

"Whether you shall be miserable or not," I answered, "depends more on yourself than on the rulers of Bohemia. Why should a man grumble who has a house, and food, and land to cultivate? Only carry your enjoyments home instead of consuming them by the way, and cheerfulness will be there to gladden your wife as well as you."

I bade him good-bye, and pursued my walk. Turning round just over the brow of the hill, I saw him still in the same spot, gazing after me. "Farewell, good friend!" he shouted, and strode away.

Half an hour later I came to a road-mender, who told me he earned twenty kreutzers a day, and was quite content therewith. He had a wife and child; never ate meat or drank beer; lived mostly on potatoes, and was, nevertheless, strong and healthy, and by no means inclined to quarrel with his lot. The road was a constant source of employment; and if at times bad weather kept him at home for a day or two, his pay went on all the same.

Every mile brings us more and more among the Czechs. Oval faces and arched eyebrows become more numerous, and women's talk sounds shrill and shrewish, as if angry or quarrelsome, as is remarked of the women in Caernarvonshire; and yet it is nothing more than friendly conversation. To a stranger the language sounds as unmusical as it is difficult; and to learn it--you may as well hope to master Chinese. Czechish names and handbills appear on the walls; the names of villages, with the usual topographical particulars, are written up in German and Czechish, of which behold a specimen:

The hostess, meanwhile, chatted with me and set the table. She professed to admire the English, and thought it an honour that an Englishman had once slept a night in her house, "although he had to look into a book for all he wanted to say." She coincided entirely in the Saxon schoolmaster's opinion, that all best things came from England.

As the clock struck eleven in came half a dozen serving men and maidens, and sat down to dinner with the master and mistress. The dowager supplied them with soup, beef, a mountain of potato-dumplings, and cucumber salad, and ate her portion apart with undoubting appetite. An old beggar crept in and stood hat in hand imploring charity for God's sake! She scolded him for his intrusion, and then gave him a smoking hot dumpling and a word of sympathy, which he received and acknowledged with humble thanks and the sign of the cross.

So with sundry discourse we came to Kruschowitz, where we dined, looking out on thick belts of fruit-trees, that embower the village, and relieve the pale green of little plantations of acacias that show here and there among the bright-red roofs. Most of the houses exhibit the Czechish style, which shuns height and dispenses with an upper story. Then we went on at an after-dinner pace to Rentsch, where, striking into the old road to Prague, now but little frequented, we shortened the distance by four or five miles. All Czechish now, both to eye and ear. A difference is perceptible in the fields, the implements, sheds, and vehicles; they are not so neat or workmanlike in appearance as in the German districts, and yet the broad crops of wheat, already turning yellow, betoken glad abundance.

Glazed windows are few: an opening in the wall, with a hinged shutter, suffices for most of the houses. And for door they have a big archway closed by heavy wooden gates, looking very inhospitable. Here and there one of these gates stands a little open, and you may get a peep at the interior, a square court, enclosed by stable, barn, and dwelling, heaped with manure and ugly rubbish. No notion here, you will say, of the fitness of things. Look at the wagon--a basket on wheels--the wheelbarrow, the rakes, huddled away anyhow, as if they were just as well in one place as another. Perhaps they are. Quaint old Fuller says of the Devonshire cotters of his day, "Vain it is for any to search their houses, being a work beneath the pains of a sheriff, and above the power of any constable." You will, perhaps, say the same here. Look in-doors! the same slovenliness prevails. The room would be just as comfortable, or rather uncomfortable, if chairs and table changed places; if the higgledy-piggledy at one end were shifted to the other. The condition of the utensils is by no means unimpeachable; and repelled by the pervading odour, you will not be less thankful than proud that your lot is not cast among the Czechs.

A Talk with the Landlord -- A Jew's Offer -- A Ride in a Wagen -- Talk with the Jew -- The Stars -- A Mysterious Gun-barrel -- An Alarm -- Stony Ammunition -- The Man with the Gun -- The Jew's opinion of him -- Sunrise -- A Walk -- The White Hill -- A Fatal Field -- Waking up in the Suburbs -- Early Breakfasts -- Imperial and Royal Tobacco -- Milk-folk -- The Gate of Prague -- A Snappish Sentry -- The Soldiers -- Into the City -- Picturesque Features and crowding Associations -- The Kleinseite -- The Bridge -- Palaces -- The Altstadt -- Remarkable Streets -- The Teinkirche -- The Neustadt -- The Three Hotels.

The landlord came in a few minutes afterwards, and, to encourage me to tell him all he wished to know about myself, declared himself a German. That he should ever have been so stupid as to tempt fortune at Neu Straschitz was a mistake haunting and vexing him continually. A living was not to be got in such a miserable village, and among such miserable people, and he meant to migrate as soon as he could find some one more stupid than himself to take the inn off his hands.

I had seen two or three German names in the street, and asked him if they were of long standing. "Not very." And he went on to say that the Stock-Bohemians, as the Czechs are called, are perpetually encroached on, pressed within narrower limits by the German element. Though a good deal was said about Czechish vigour and intellectuality, some folk thought that the language would at no distant day cease to be spoken. As for the character of the Czechs, there was scarcely a German who did not believe them to be sly, false, double-faced. And what says the proverb?--Dirt is the offspring of Lying and Idleness. For his part, he knew the Czechs were dirty, but he didn't quite know whether, in other respects, they were worse than their neighbours. Any way, he rather liked the thought of removing from among them.

The wagon was just wide enough for two; and, what with the elastic sides and soft hay, there was no painful jolting. The west shone gloriously with the golden arch of sunset as we drove out of the village and entered on a bad road winding across the open fields; and Twilight came on so softly that you might have fancied Day was lingering to lend her his palest rays. The Jew was disposed to talk, and betrayed no little curiosity on the subject of travelling. Was it not very irksome to be away from home? was it not very expensive? and how much money did one need to carry? was there no danger? and so forth. But what interested him most was the question as to the money: he returned to it again and again.

Next, he had much to ask concerning London--the sort of business transacted in the great city--the rate of profit--in short, he put me through a whole social and commercial catechism, from which he drew a conclusion that London would not be an undesirable place of residence.

So it went on, interrupted only by his saying a few words now and then to the driver in Czechish, until my turn came, and I opened my questioning about Prague. The Jew, however, was readier in asking questions than in answering; indeed, he was stingy in reply, as if words were worth a florin the dozen.

As the stars brightened the night became cold, and set me shivering. The Jew brought two cloaks out of a bag, and, wrapped in one of these, I lay on my back looking up at the sky, thinking of home-scenes and home-friends as my eye wandered from one bright spot to another; and solemn was the impression made on me by the sight of the glorious handiwork.

"For the bright firmament Shoots forth no flame So silent, but is eloquent In speaking the Creator's name."

I could not fail to note that astronomers have reason for telling us that meteoric phenomena are more common on any night than would be believed by those not accustomed to observe the heavens, for I saw twelve shooting-stars within two hours.

As we went on, the lights in the public-houses became fewer, and ere long disappeared, and the silence was only disturbed by the fitful barking of dogs in the distance, and the slow noise of the wheels. Our horse dropped into a walk, and the driver off to sleep, and I was still gazing at the stars when I heard footsteps near the side of the wagon. Turning my eyes, without rising, I saw the top of a gun-barrel about two yards off, apparently resting on some one's shoulder. The sound of the footsteps woke the driver, who immediately began to quicken the horse's pace, but very cautiously, as if to avoid suspicion. The Jew seemed uneasy, and muttered a word or two in a low tone; the whip was used, the horse broke into a trot, but the gun-barrel was not left behind; I could still see it in the same place, keeping pace with the wagon.

What did it mean? One time I fancied that perhaps the hay on which I lay so innocently was but a disguise for something contraband, whereof a cunning gendarme had gotten scent. Then I remembered the landlord's desire to see a gold coin, and the Jew's curiosity as to the amount and quality of a traveller's money, and a faint suspicion of having fallen into a trap did occur to me. Meanwhile the horse trotted in earnest; the gun-barrel was left in the rear; then the whip was plied vigorously; the Jew spoke energetically; the driver jumped from his perch, picked up two big stones, threw them into the wagon, and drove quickly on again.

"There is one for you, and one for me," said the Jew to me, in a loud whisper.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The stones," he replied; "one for you, and one for me, if we are attacked."

"Attacked or not, we are three to one, and one of the three is an Englishman."

The Jew did not answer, for the footsteps were again heard approaching at a run, and soon the gun-barrel appeared once more abreast of the wagon. The driver kept the horse up to his speed, the Jew fumbled about with his feet for the big stones, and the chase--if such it could be called--continued for about ten minutes.

All at once the gun-barrel darted from the road-side towards the wagon. I immediately sat up, and found myself face to face, and but a few inches apart, with the bearer of the weapon--a wild-looking fellow, wearing a slouched cap and hunting-jacket. A faint exclamation of surprise escaped him, and, whether it was that he saw two persons in the wagon, besides the driver, or that we did not look worth his trouble, I know not, but he gradually dropped behind, and we lost sight of the gun-barrel.

A minute passed. "Now," said the Jew, "we are rid of him."

But scarcely had he spoken, than a shrill whistle sounded afar through the silence of the night, followed after a short interval by a whistle at a distance from the road.

"Quick! quick!" was now the word to the driver. "He is calling his comrades: they will be down upon us. Quick! quick!"

The Czech seemed well inclined to obey; the pace was quickened into a gallop, and, in about a quarter-hour, we came to a village, where, stopping in front of the inn, he filled the rack with clover from the wagon, and gave the horse to feed.

The place with its littery appendages looked unked, lying half in deep shadow; the door was fast, and not a light shone from the windows, cheating my hope of a cup of coffee. The Jew now sat up, talked for awhile vehemently with the driver, then said, turning to me, "We have had an escape. That fellow meant nothing good--nothing good--nothing good. A real bad fellow!"

"Was he a robber?"

"Perhaps worse. He meant nothing good. We are well out of it. I hope we shall not see him again."

We did not; and by-and-by, as we went on again, and I lay looking up at the stars, they seemed to grow dim, then twinkle strangely, and at last they disappeared. It may be that I slept, for when next I looked at the sky it was flecked by streams of rosy tints, the fields were covered with dew as a veil, and, by the timid chirping of birds, and other signs, the eye might note the preparations for lifting the veil at the approach of the sun. My sheltering cloak, my hair and eyebrows, were thickly covered with dew, cold as the brightening dawn. The Jew, similarly bepearled, lay sleeping soundly, the Czech nodded on his perch, and the horse, taking advantage of the slumber, was moving only at a sober walk.

It was not yet five when I alighted about three miles from Prague, to get warm by walking the remaining distance. The Jew took his florin with much demonstration of thanks, horse and driver roused up, and the wagon was soon out of sight.

"Ach Gott! die Weissenberger Schlacht Erreicht wohl Ostrolenka's Trauer, Und die darauf erfolgt die Racht, Hat tr?bere als Sibiriens Schauer."

Already the road is alive with vehicles, for from every lane and byepath speed dog-carts, or little wagons on two wheels, or large wagons on four wheels, all laden with tin cans of milk for the city. How the dogs pant, and the horses snort! for the driver, and his or her two or three companions, keep the animals at full speed, sparing neither lash nor voice. Long before they come into sight you can hear their shrill chatter, mingled with merry laughter, and, as they burst into view, a shout from all the others adds excitement to the race, and away they go, each trying to be first.

"For two reasons," I answered, with a laugh; "this is my first visit to Prague, and I have not yet learnt your regulations; and secondly, why did you let me go by without asking me for it?"

The lounging group of soldiers laughed as this was spoken, and my questioner having led the way to his darksome den, built at the elbow of the arch so as to command both approaches, took my passport and gave me the official receipt without further parley.

As I emerged again into the sunshine, one of the soldiers said, "Do you know what? When any one goes away into the city without stopping at the guard-house, he must always come back to the gate where he entered, and give up his passport."

I thanked him for his information, and took my way once more down the street. It was just six o'clock: all the shops were open; working people thronged the footways; heavy teams toiled slowly up the hill towards the gate; the milk-folk hurried down with noisy clatter, while men wearing glazed hats and a canvas uniform swept the streets. Signs of early rising everywhere.

The peculiar features of the city multiply as you advance. High on the left, its cathedral tower springing above the rest, appears the Hradschin--an imposing mass of building in the factory style of architecture, stretching, as one might guess, for half a mile along the bold eminence, commanding the country for miles around. You can count four hundred windows. There, as every one knows, the Thirty Years' War began, by certain angry Bohemian nobles pitching two Imperial commissioners and their secretary out of one of the windows. Little did the haughty ejectors think of the consequences of their exploit--that before thirty years were over, 30,000 villages and more than a million men would be destroyed by war!

Being very hungry, I was fain to drink a draught of milk and eat one of the poppy-seeded loaves at the door of one of the little shops, looking round all the while on curious gables, panelled fronts, ancient gateways, more numerous as we descend. Lower down, we are in the oldest part of the city, among the palaces of the great nobles whose names figure in history--Kollowrat, Lobkowitz, Wallenstein, and others. Massive edifices, whereby your eye and steps are alike arrested. And on every side are narrow lanes and courts, some nothing but a steep stair, and these, winding in and out, increase the charm of the ornamented architecture, and produce wonderful bits of perspective. Such effects of light and shade, and glorious touches of colour!

Two doors off was another hotel, where the answer, accompanied by a similar inquisition, was, "Nothing empty."

A third replied, "Perhaps, to-morrow."

The Hausknecht -- A Place to Lose Yourself -- Street-Phenomena -- Book-shops -- Glass-wares -- Cavernous Beer-houses -- Signs -- Czechish Names -- Ugly Women -- Swarms of Soldiers -- A Scene on the Bridge -- A Drate?ik -- The Ugly Passport Clerk -- The Suspension-bridge -- The Islands -- The Slopes of the Laurenzberg -- View over Prague -- Schools, Palaces, and Poverty -- The Rookery -- The Hradschin -- The Courts -- The Cathedral -- The Great Tomb -- The Silver Shrine -- Relics -- A Kissed Portrait -- St. Wenzel's Chapel -- Big Sigmund -- The Loretto Platz -- The Old Towers -- The Hill-top and Hill-foot.

The day was all before me, and I made haste to

"go lose myself, And wander up and down and view the city."

Judging from the number of queer-looking names over the doors, Prague must be the head-quarters of the Czechs, and yet one meets comparatively few examples of the fine intellectual brow and handsome features of which I had seen noble specimens in the villages. Most of the faces struck me as of a very common cast; and as for the gentle sex, never have I seen so many ugly women as in Prague. Those of the working classes are very dowdies, not to say slatterns, in many cases; and the rows of market-women squatting by their baskets resemble so many feather-beds tied round the middle, in a flimsy cotton dress, and crowned by a red or yellow kerchief pinned under the chin. Even among the graceful and gaily-dressed ladies I saw but very few pretty faces. Perhaps I expected too much, or it might be, as I was told, that all the pretty women had gone away to the watering-places!

Surprising to a stranger is the number of soldiers, sauntering among the other pedestrians, in uniforms blue, green, gray, or white; or marching in short files at a brisk pace behind a corporal. Not once did I take a walk in Prague without seeing three or four of these little troops stepping out towards one or other quarter of the compass. What is there to be kept down that can need such an imposing force? At all events, it heightens the picturesque effect of the streets.

Stand for half an hour on the bridge and you will see, while noting that scarcely any besides boys and priests take off their hats to St. John of the five stars, how great is the proportion which the army and the church bear to the rest of the inhabitants. At times the black and the coloured uniforms appear to have the best of it. All besides may be divided into two classes--the well-dressed and the shabby--for nothing appears between the two. There are, however, but few of those very miserable objects such as haunt the streets of large towns in England.

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